Date #99: The Last Dinner Party

I was standing outside Dwight's house when it hit me.

Wow, it's taken almost 23 years, but it finally happened.

So I walked back into the house and sang "Sunday."

Wait, I probably need to back up a minute.

Scooter had arranged to have--what we all swore--would be the final dinner party. In return for this guarantee, I promised to grant his cousin Terry's wish of being one of my dates. (Because it's such an honor, you get a pin and everything.)

Not that Scooter's cousin was anything like Scooter. He's a music major from New York in town for the summer AND he's an accompanist, which means I'd pretty much eat Dwight's cooking merely to befriend him...

Oh wait, I was going to have to do that anyway.

The dinner party started off with Turner relating the story of Paye was mad at him for talking to Gary last week.

TURNER: I mean, we used to be best friends! We used to talk all the time! If there's a chance I could rekindle that friendship--
BRIAN: See, 'rekindle' really isn't a word you use for friendships. Maybe that's what got Paye upset.
NICK: Or maybe it was the fact that he then caught Turner texting Gary twenty times that night.
BRIAN: It wasn't twenty times!
NICK: That's what you said.
SCOOTER: I have a solution. Everybody pass your phone to the person two places left of you.

We all did, even though I had a bad feeling where this was going.

SCOOTER: Since this is our last dinner party, I think we should have a little purging ritual.
DWIGHT: If this involves voodoo dolling Hillary, I'm all about it.
ME: What are we doing Scooter?
SCOOTER: Kevin, you are going to delete the number under 'Richard D' in my phone.
BRIAN: Who's Richard D?
SCOOTER: This really hot drugged up loser I text every time I'm drunk.
TURNER: Oh no, I see where this is going.
SCOOTER: I will delete Gary's number from Turner's phone.
TURNER: No, you won't!
BRIAN: Turner, it's not like he can't call you. This way you won't be tempted to contact him. That's all.
NICK: So who's Terry deleting then, Brian?
BRIAN: Oh...there's nobody in my phone worth deleting.
NICK: P***y.
ALL OF US: Eww...

Turner looked at Brian with a steely gaze.

TURNER: If Scooter's deleting Gary, then Terry is deleting Connor.
ME: You still talk to Connor?
TURNER: And they're usually always drunken one-way convos.
BRIAN: Can't he just delete Scooter's number instead?
TERRY: I feel awkward about this. I don't really know any of you.
NICK: No better way to get to know somebody than to help them cut a cord. Delete Christopher, Brian.
ME: Now, that's a good suggestion.
SCOOTER: Here, fucking, here!
TERRY: I guess you could delete my last boyfriend Ren.
TURNER: You know we don't know him. He could just be having us delete his chiropracter's number or something.
TERRY: You can check the twenty-five texts I sent to him last week. I have them all saved--don't ask me why.
TURNER: Ren it is.
DWIGHT: Nick, you can delete my mother.
SCOOTER: Try again.
DWIGHT: Delete Carl N--the 'N' stands for 'Never Called.'

Then all eyes turned to me.

ME: What?
SCOOTER: Which of the hundred boys is leaving the phone, Kevo?
ME: Just pick one. It's not that big a deal.
SCOOTER: Oh, come on. That's no fun.
TERRY: What hundred boys?
BRIAN: Kevin's a gigolo pimp.
ME: Brian!
TERRY: What's the going rate these days? I'm getting tired of being a starving musician.
BRIAN: Apple doesn't fall far, does it, Scooter?
ME: Wait, um, are we allowed to make one last call before these deletions?

Scooter mulled this over in his head.

SCOOTER: Sure, why not? Just look at the phone numbers first to make sure nobody tries to do a switch.

We handed all our phones back.

SCOOTER: You have five minutes, and then your phones are going to have a little more memory in them, boys.

I went outside with Terry.

ME: I'm sorry. I can't imagine that this was your ideal date with me.
TERRY: From reading the blog, I wouldn't expect any less.
ME: So you're going to try and call Ren?
TERRY: Yeah. Knowing him he'll send me to voicemail and I can tell him--sober, for once--that he missed a great opportunity.
ME: I don't even know what to say to my guy.
TERRY: Who is he?
ME: He's someone I used to know. It's been a long time since I've seen him. I don't even know if this number still works.
TERRY: Did things end badly between you two?
ME: No. They never really ended at all. That's why it was so hard.
TERRY: Gotcha. Well, I'll leave to your privacy.
ME: Thanks.

Terry went back into the house and I called the number I've called in a few times this past year, but this time it was going to be the last. Like Terry, and as usual, I got a voicemail.

ME: Hey, it's me. I just wanted to say that this is going to be my last time calling you. I don't have any other way to get in touch with you, so unless you out-of-the-blue make some sort of random phone call to me, I'm guessing this is it. I just wanted to say that...um...I really miss you. I think about you all the time. I hope you're doing well and that...that you're happy. Bye.

I went back into the house and handed my phone to Dwight showing him the number.

ME: It'll be that one, Dwight.
DWIGHT: You sure?
ME: Yeah, I'm sure.

I sat in my seat and took back Scooter's phone.

SCOOTER: Rich said he wanted to get together tonight.
BRIAN: What did you say?
SCOOTER: I said call me because in five minutes I won't have your number anymore.
ME: Will he call?
SCOOTER: You never know with him.
BRIAN: I didn't even bother calling Connor. He wouldn't care.
TURNER: I told Gary not to call for awhile.

We all looked at him.

TURNER: It's for the best.
NICK: I told Chris he's a fucking idiot with a small d**k. Then I said peace.

Terry seemed to be smiling.

TERRY: Ren was cool actually. He said he respected what I was doing. Said he misses me, but that it was tie to severe ties--for now, anyway.
DWIGHT: I had to remind Carl who I was.
NICK: What about Mr. Broccoli? What did you say?

I shrugged.

ME: Nothing really. Just whatever popped into my head.

Scooter seemed to understand that I didn't want this moment to go on any longer, so he held up Turner's phone and said--

SCOOTER: Delete on the count of three!

It then took two minutes to figure out how to delete phone numbers in all of our various phones. But finally we were ready.

SCOOTER: One...two...three!

For some reason, I screamed. I screamed upon hitting 'Delete' in Scooter's phone and seeing that little number disappear. Surprisingly enough, Turner screamed, too. Then Brian. Pretty soon we were all screaming at the phones, and then finally, we were silent.

ME: I need some air.

While I was outside, I had a striking realization. Scooter was right. It was time to move on. I've been in the same place with the same group of people in the same situations for my entire life. It was time to change that.

I went inside and heard Terry plunking away some keys that sounded familiar.

ME: Sunday in the Park with George?
TERRY: I learned to play this after I saw a college production of the show in Boston.
ME: Listen to Billy Porter do it. It'll change your life.
TERRY: Can you sing?
ME: Very poorly.
TERRY: I'll help you out then. Just try.

So I did.

Sunday, by the blue purple yellow red water
On the green purple yellow red grass
Let us pass through our perfect park
Pausing on a Sunday

Later that night, I told all the others I was leaving. I didn't know where I was going to go or how I was going to get there, or what I was going to do once I got there, but that as soon as the summer was over, it was going to be time for a move.

By the cool blue triangular water
On the soft green elliptical grass
As we pass through arrangements of shadow
Toward the verticals of trees
Forever

Dwight took it well since he won't be here anyway. I apologized for giving him a hard time about leaving. Now I understand why he had to do it. Sometimes it becomes too hard to stay in a place that reminds you of so many people who aren't there anymore.

By the blue purple yellow red water
On the green orange violet mass of the grass
In our perfect park

Scooter didn't seem to believe me. Brian just laughed, but it was an 'Oh well' laugh, like this was to be expected. Turner knew I meant it, and he kept staring at me, as if to see what happened to the boy who was always so proud to stick his feet in Rhode Island and never move. Nick just said 'Do what you have to do, Brock.'

Made of flecks of light
And dark
And parasols
Bum bum bum bum bum bum
Bum bum bum

FRIEND: So how is this going to work?
ME: I'm going to start traveling. Find a place that clicks with me, find a library, find a place to stay, and the rest...Well, I don't know. I don't know anything actually.
FRIEND: You should try the Netherlands. You could become a red light fixture and write a blog about your first hundred tricks.
ME: Going away now isn't like really going away. Nobody's more than a phone call or an e-mail away.
FRIEND: You say that, but you neglect the power of presence. The fact that you can be there if someone needs you. That you can hold them when they cry, or hug them when you see them. Nothing can replace that.
ME: So you think I should stay?
FRIEND: No, I just wanted to remind you that you actually being here does make a difference. Now you have to make a difference somewhere else.

People strolling through the trees
Of a small suburban park
On an island in the river
On and ordinary Sunday
Sunday
Sunday